


Just Kill Me

by yourrhinestoneeyes



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Fighting, Gen, M/M, Ties in with a lot of the comic books, inspired by Killing Joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:56:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4411100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourrhinestoneeyes/pseuds/yourrhinestoneeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman can never stop wondering how things will end. If he'll just let Joker rip the city to shreds until there is nothing left but the two of them or if maybe he can prevent the world from ending due to his own obsession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Kill Me

There they stood again, like always. It was the same. There were bodies bloodied and mangled strewn across the wet dirt, rusted spikes of metal surrounded them like a fighting ring. Batman cringed at the sharp pain that shot up his arm from where he’d been stabbed by one of Joker’s goons not too long ago. His breathing was heavy, labored, and his eyes were focused on the haggard and wild eyed beast of a man standing before him. Joker looked like an under fed dog with mange, it was close to dying, but it had so much fight left to give; always feeding off of insanity and a rather brilliant IQ. There were times that Batman thought the lunatic would never die, he hoped he would never die.

Still the question remained, it always remained no matter how high the body count got or how much of Gotham was torched to the ground. It didn’t matter that they would someday stand in the ruins of the city, their city, his city. It didn’t matter if the bodies of their friends, allies, enemies, and families lay at their feet and ashes rained down on them from the sky. This was their game and the question remained like always.

How would this end?

Joker charged him, he pulled a knife from the inside of his purple jacket pocket and rammed it hard into the much larger man’s side. Most of the bat suit prevented major damage much to the clown’s frustration. He tried to pull the knife free, Batman grabbed him by the throat gripping hard enough to force a laugh followed by coughing from the thin pale figure. With a glare of disapproval Batman threw him to the side watching the other man’s body roll onto the ground, mud and blood stained his grossly bright clothes and his greasy green dyed hair. He crawled onto his hands and knees and grinned up at his enemy, his friend. 

Batman felt unsettled by the look. By the wide Cheshire cat grin on his face, his crooked teeth, and blood red lips. He hated the manic look in those sewage green eyes of his. Nothing about him looked right. Nothing looked human. Nothing looked sane.

How would it end, with him killing Joker?

He found himself pacing closer to him considering this over and over. He considered many things, he spent nights avoiding sleep just so that he could think this over and over again in his mind. He wanted to know, needed to know.

Joker had told him once how it was going to end.

His words still rung in his head, why didn’t he want to believe it was true?

“I don’t want to kill you.” Batman said holding out a hand in offering to the lankier man.

Joker tilted his head to the side and studied the black gloved hand that was offered to him. With a sick sharp sound of laughter he jumped up and kicked Batman’s chest sending him flying back to the ground.

“Too bad Batsy, because I really want to kill you.” 

Within a moment he was on him, thin pale hands doing their best to wrap around Batman’s thick throat. Joker cackled as he did his best to strangle the larger man, but he wasn’t too strong, and in no time Batman had him off of him. He had him on the ground, he was kicking him over and over, and Joker was laughing hysterically at all of this.

“Why won’t you just let me help you?” He asked angrily.

He was sick of this, exhausted. 

Joker half crawled away from him, he sat on the ground propping himself up on his elbows. He studied Batman, looked into his gray eyes, and tried to figure what was going on in that tiny bat brain that made him be this way.

“Oh you can’t help me….No, no far too late for that Bruce; you see I’m past the point of helping.”

He didn’t move away when Batman marched up to him, he allowed himself to be hauled up off the ground by the front of his shirt. He just merely grinned and held onto the other man’s forearms for support.

“You told me once that if I died that you would stop.”

“Hmm yes I suppose I did, I’m flattered you remember such little things I say Batsy.” He teased

Batman dropped him back onto the ground, this time Joker did pull himself to his feet. He was curious now, it was rare they could talk, and about something so potentially interesting.

“Did you mean that?”

“Yes of course, I may be a psychopath, but I am a man of my word.”

Batman doubted that highly.

He wanted to believe this though.

“No more killing, no more blowing buildings up….Nothing.”

“Not a thing, not a hair on this trash littered city’s precious head.”

Batman nodded, he reached the back of his belt retrieving the one extra weapon he never thought he’d bring along. 

Joker eyed the hand gun with morbid curiosity, Batman ignored the way his eyes lit up with excitement at seeing the weapon.

“Ooo have we finally changed our mind on killing me, I never thought you would. This is quite exciting you know.”

He watched as the lanky man approached him, Joker took hold of the hand that held the gun and pulled it up until the barrel was pressed against his forehead.

“Right there Batsy, make it good. I want my brains all over this damn place.” He said laughing.

He always wanted to feel what it was like to die, finally just die.

The moment was shortly lived when Batman placed a hand against his chest and shoved him back.

“No I don’t kill people, that isn’t why I have the gun.”

“Then what’s it for, show and tell?”

He was feeling bored again, that was until Batman held the gun out to him like he wanted him to take it from him.

“Hm?”

“Here, take it”

The other man laughed, “You have got to be joking, you’re giving me a gun?”

Batman didn’t respond, he just stared at him impatiently.

Joker made no move to take the gun from him, this had to be a very terribly dry joke. He didn’t find it funny at all.

“Your humor is rather bland Batsy, what is going on?”

“Take the gun Joker.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.” He repeated again with that aggravated edge to his voice.

For whatever reason Joker found himself listening, taking the gun from this man built on mystery and constant brooding. He tossed it hand to hand, eyed it curiously, and felt its weight in his pale hands. It was a gun, a loaded gun; it was like all the guns that he owned in his warehouse. Why did he need this gun?

“Now what, do you want a thank you card?”

Batman walked closer to him until they were nearly chest to chest, he uncomfortably towered over the clown.

“Kill me”

Joker laughed and took a step back.

“Seriously? That’s hilarious.”

“I’m not joking. You said all of this would end if I died, you told me that I’m the reason you’re the way you are. I made you this way and no matter how hard I try you never let anybody help you. If this is the only way to stop you then I’m willing to do it.”

Something in their environment changed. The rain sounded louder, Joker could hear his own heart beating, and he could feel the pain of their fight coursing through every fiber of his being. The cold wet metal he held in his hand seemed to weigh a million pounds, for a moment his mind felt completely sober and lucid. No, no this wasn’t funny at all.

“I’m not going to shoot you.”

“Yes you are, because I want this city to be safe.”

Joker shook his head, his green hair flopped over his forehead momentarily obscuring his eyes until he pushed it back with shaking fingers.

“Damn it this isn’t how this is supposed to work, if I’m going to kill you then I’m going to do it on my own terms. No, no this isn’t how I imagined it in my head at all. This isn’t even the correct setting! There was supposed to be explosions, all of your stupid little Bat and Bird friends dead around you. I was supposed to have you on your knees groveling for your life while I slit your throat. This is not how you die.”

“No more, no more death, or destruction. This ends tonight Joker. You kill me and whatever the Hell I did to you ends, whatever I did to make you the way you are.”

Hell Joker barely remembered himself. He vaguely remembered his name, his old face, or if he even had parents. Had his parents loved him or had they beat him?

A wife hadn’t he had a wife?

He found himself shaking with laughter, tears streaming from his eyes, but it wasn’t from the ultimate joke of this situation.

He only composed himself when Batman took hold of his wrist pulling his hand up until the gun was pointed at his face. He tried to jerk away, but the larger man had a solid grip on him and was determined he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“No more games, you kill me, and then you turn yourself over to the police.”

“No, no I’m not going to do it. You can’t make me do this.”

Batman threw the smaller man to the ground, this time Joker was slower in pulling himself up. He looked broken, he shook his head causing bits of mud and drops of water to go everywhere. He still held the gun, but he refused to point it towards the figure towering over him.

“No, no, no! I’m not doing it this way, this isn’t how the game is supposed to work. This is my game, this isn’t your game!”

Joker lunged up at him shoving him to the ground, he beat the other man with the gun over and over.

“Fight me back, fight me back!” He screamed angrily.

Blood spurted from Batman’s nose, his bottom lip split and the mask was cracking exposing more of his face. Joker stopped throwing the gun to the side. He was left straddling the other man’s stomach, hands pressed against his chest, and his head bowed. His breathing was labored, his lungs burned with each deep gasp for air. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t anything.

He didn’t fight it when Batman shoved him onto the ground.

He watched idly as Batman circled him, glared down at him like he hated him more than he had in the first place now. Joker reached out placing a hand on top of a boot clad foot, his dirt covered fingers trailed over the leather moving up over the vigilante’s leg.

“Oh Brucey you never do want to play the fun way, now do you?” He mused laughing a bit.

Batman kicked his hand away.

“What do you want from me?”

“Don’t you know that one already, I’m not the Riddler. It’s rather obvious.”

“Not to me”

Joker let out an annoyed sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I want everything from you, every last God damn thing.”

Joker remained lying on the ground eying him, Batman remained standing by his side watching him like he was a puzzle he still couldn’t work out.

That was the thing that Joker knew drove him mad, kept him interested in the game. He never knew the truth, never knew what he had done to ruin this man’s life and turn him into a monster. Not knowing killed him, it ate him alive.

That was the most arousing thing about this for the clown prince.

“I want you to stop.”

“I can’t, not as long as I have you around Batsy. You make things too much fun, you give me a reason to live! Why hell you’re the one who created me, made me the clown I am today. Heh without you I’d just be another dreary loser….Oh the times we’ve had, as much as I do love our games and as much as I do love you. Yes I do love you, but I will have to kill you. One day…Not on your terms.”

He felt pleased at the disgust on Batman’s face when he heard that Joker loved him.

“You’re disgusting.”

Joker sat up stretching his arms up over his head, “You do love it though, I can tell. You could send anybody to play with me, but it’s always you.”

Batman grabbed him by the back of his jacket and pulled him to his feet.

“I’m taking you to Arkham, I’m sick of this.”

“Ooo some alone time in the Batmobile now? You must enjoy me to want to spend the next hour alone with me in a car.” 

“Shut up or I’ll tape your mouth shut.”

Joker laughed, “Kinky, now that sounds like a good time Batsy.”

He easily ignored the taunting, the teasing, and the inane ramblings. Even alone in the Batmobile he found it was easy to ignore Joker’s rambling and his crap jokes. 

This felt too right, too comfortable. Joker killed hundreds, he destroyed two buildings, he kidnapped people, and they fought, and talked. They were in the car again, on their way to Arkham and within a week or so Joker would break out all over again. Batman would get the call about it, he would hunt him, and it would repeat itself for the foreseeable future.

The question still stood. How would this end?

Would they kill each other, would Joker kill him, or would somebody entirely different take both their lives?

Batman could never picture allowing anybody to kill the clown. Even after all that he had done, all the pain and death he brought into the world. He could never see himself allowing him to die. No he didn’t want Joker dead. He didn’t want either of them dead. Truth be told he enjoyed this game.


End file.
